


The future sucked, so we are going to change it

by Harry1981



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Angst and Feels, Bets & Wagers, Bilbo & Dwalin Friendship, Bofur is a Sweetheart, Dwalin & Thorin Oakenshield Friendship, Dwalin Is A Softie, F/M, Gen, M/M, Mother Hen Dori, Nori is a Little Shit, POV Multiple, Post-Quest, Protective Dwalin, Quest of Erebor, Sassy Bilbo Baggins, Thorin & Balin Friendship, Time Travel, squad goals
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-02
Updated: 2020-12-16
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:35:25
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 13,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26248801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Harry1981/pseuds/Harry1981
Summary: The Quest of Erebor was a success. Erebor was reclaimed. There was a Durin, albeit distant, on the throne.Life went on and everyone lived a life. Yet for the members of the Company, life was never the same. They grieved and grieved until even that made them numb.But they couldn't exactly do anything about what had come to past, right?Right?
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Bofur/Nori (Tolkien), Dwalin/Ori (Tolkien)
Comments: 85
Kudos: 188





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Yes, I should be updating When the Sun Rises, but as I said, Act II make me wanna bang my head. Instead, tada! I have a new story with no plan whatsoever but a very vague idea that has been harbouring in my head for ages!
> 
> So this is a super random plot bunny and the first chapter is barely even a chapter. I have an extremely vague idea of how this might go on. But I do promise, that if this turns out to be a lot of chapters, it will be not as sad as this chapter.
> 
> Also, trigger warnings? I guess.

The Company of Thorin Oakenshield had seen many trials, before, during and after their road to Erebor. It never stopped them from seeking out more adventures. It was a few months after the Fellowship had left Rivendell when the remaining Company came barreling into the Elven abode. Their beloved burglar, Bilbo Baggins, was spending the last of his days in Rivendell. In the letters he had written to the Lonely Mountain, he had expressed his desire to go back to the mountain, but old age had been failing him. Dwalin had, of course, offered to take him on a cart, but they both knew that the idea was just that- an idea. The road was still perilous and there was nothing anything could do about it.

So there they, the remaining members of the Company, having come to meet their beloved Burglar. They would have to leave soon too, for Dark forces grew on the horizon. But they would allow themselves a day of peace and laughter.

The members of the Company laughed and talked, they mourned, and they devised plans. Plans that would never be complete, and yet they did. They picked up a loaf of bread, pretended that it was a sword and swung it on Azog. They devised how to escape many adventures that they had encountered. They gave great thought to the words of one another, thinking about how they could have saved the Durins.

With heartfelt goodbyes, the Dwarves left a week later for their own land, battling orcs and whatnot.

Now that is not where the story starts. The story, in fact, starts years ago. Or perhaps years later. it’s hard to clearly make the distinction, but we shall try.

* * *

**BILBO**

Bilbo Baggins was on his way to Valinor, to the Undying Lands. He knew not what would come next but he craved to. He was looking forward to this last adventure, with elves and his beloved nephew on his side.

That was not to say that Bilbo was without regrets. Oh no, he had many regrets all through his life. Like trading the Arkenstone, not being fast enough to save the Line of Durin, passing on the darkness that the ring was to his nephew and perhaps, even living as long as he did. For you see, he never hated the fact that he lived that long, but sometimes he wondered how he, a mere hobbit, deserved to live so long while the King Under the Mountain could not.

With a sigh, Bilbo looked on to the everlasting sea. He knew in his heart he would never see Thorin Oakenshield again, for he must have surely passed on. Nor would he see Kili and Fili, whose spirits Bilbo was sure had been residing in the two Hobbits, Merry and Pippin, he had watched growing up. Nor would he see dear Balin, who had bid him goodbye before going on to the quest to reclaim Moria, or Ori, who hated green food and shared Bilbo’s love for Literature; nor would he see Oin and his bloody blasted ear-trumpet again.

Letting out a laugh at the memories, Bilbo wiped away a tear. He would never see any of them again. And he had made his peace with that. 

* * *

**THORIN**

Thorin Oakenshield had many things to grieve about. His grandfather, father, brother and his own sanity. As he lay on the Ravenhill, looking upon the face of Bilbo Baggins, he had grief that he would never be able to really see his life with this beautiful Hobbit. He was his One, Thorin knew, and he was sure so did everyone else but the blasted Hobbit. Yet he would never trade a single moment of their journey.   
He also grieved for his two nephews, who were dead, lying somewhere on the very cliff where he lay dying. 

Thorin would never exchange a single moment of his life, but if Mahal gave him the power, he would change the whole journey. Maybe, even kill the dragon before he came to Erebor.

But these thoughts were a foolish dwarf’s dreams and that is all that they were. Thorin was quite content thinking about what could have been as he let the darkness overtake him in his beloved burglar’s arms. 

* * *

**FILI**

Since he was a young dwarf, Fili knew what his position was. He was the Crown prince, the dwarf who would have to lead a whole group of exiled dwarrows in case his Uncle Thorin passed on the Halls of Mahal. But Thorin was...Thorin, and Fili never really thought that there would ever be a day when he would not be there.

His dreams were shattered when the Company made their way to Erebor. He saw his Uncle fall, to a weapon and to sickness, to pride and to love. Somehow, the dwarf Fili had grown up admiring became a real breathing creature and Fili realized that the day when he would have to take the throne might be closer than he thought.

And as he felt the sword pierce him, Fili realized, that at the end of the day, he too was susceptible to mortal life. That he might not get everything that he would want.

* * *

**KILI**

Kili grew up in the shadow of great dwarrows and he never really tried to compete with them. His dedication to his race and craft was enough for him, and he spent his early years being a child rather than worrying about what was going on. Fili would always bring him up to news anyways. 

But then his Uncle called for a quest, a quest for a home Kili had only heard about. He was too young, according to his Amad, and if he went so could Gimli. But Gimli was a child, and Kili was somewhat of a bigger child. With Fili at his side, he could overcome anything.

And then the quest actually began and Kili understood what was the real world his Uncle would gush about so much. He felt fear and love, pride and affection, grief and sorrow and at the end, Kili realized, he lived a lifetime in the quest, for he would never really live a lifetime.

* * *

**BALIN**

Balin liked to think he had lived a very long life. Perhaps, in number, they weren’t quite as many, but he felt older than others. He had fought in many battles, counselled enough Durins and seen enough of Middle Earth. Sometimes, Balin would think that he could truly understand the grief and hope in Gandalf eyes. 

He had seen grief, yes, but he knew hope. It was that hope that made him follow Thorin Oakenshield to Erebor, and it was that hope that led him to the Mines of Moria, to Khazad-dum. He became a Lord of Moria, constantly battling Goblins and whatnot of the Misty Mountains.

But as he lay on his death bed, injured, Balin wondered if perhaps his hope was misplaced at times. 

* * *

**DWALIN**

Dwalin lived longer than any other dwarf. They called it a blessing- he called it a curse. 

He saw his home fall to a dragon. He saw the battle of Azanulbizar. He lost his best friend trying to reclaim his home. He lost his brother to the Mines of Moria. He lived through the Battle of the Ring and saw the last of Elves leave Arda. He was there when Gandalf, a white wizard, bid goodbye to everyone. Gandalf, an Istari, someone who had lived forever. He lived when the last of Thorin’s Company, Bilbo Baggins, sailed away with Elves. 

He watched it all, and he called it a curse.

Dwalin wouldn’t wish such a long life on anyone. The Princes of Durin and his own friend could have seen so much in all the years that he lived without them.

So when he finally felt Death creep up to him, he begged Mahal to let him be in peace. He couldn’t survive more. He had done his duty. He just wanted to die. 

* * *

**DORI**

Dori was a simple dwarf. His tea and his clothes were his life. Ori was his pride, and Nori was the bane. But he loved his brothers and that was the only reason he agreed to follow Thorin Oakenshield.   
And perhaps because his mother traced their lineage to Durin, but that was unimportant.

It was during that journey that he actually found himself becoming loyal to the King, to understand why such great songs were sung for the sons of Durin. When the Durins fell, Dori cried. Fili and Kili, too young to die, and Thorin, who had so much to do.

Then Ori went away, and young Gimli came back to tell him on his death bed that Ori had passed defending Lord Balin. Dori did not cry, he only smiled at Nori.

When he closed his eyes, all Dori wanted was peace. He wished to change so much, but he knew that the Halls of Mahal would bring him peace. 

* * *

**NORI**

For all his life, Nori was overshadowed by his hardworking older brother and genius younger brother. Neither brought food on the table though. So he might have spent more time in cells rather than outside, but Nori never regretted his line of choice.

The only reason he joined Thorin Oakenshield on his quest was that his foolish younger brother was going, and Dori was worrying his head over their brother. Bofur would be there too, so Nori would have fun. 

If the quest succeeded, he would be rich.

If the quest failed, well, they would die.

It wasn’t that big a deal.

But then something else happened. They won over Erebor, but at the cost of their Kings and Princes.

He was a street smart thief. Nori should not have felt guilt over the death of their King, yet he did. As soon as Dain descended on the throne, Nori took it over himself to protect the new Royals, to find every nook and cranny or Erebor, to know everyone’s business.

When his time finally came, Nori was filled with guilt and regret. Something he could never really throw away.

* * *

**ORI**

Ori was not a warrior. He was not brave. His interest was scholarly, and he grew up on stories of great Dwarven kingdoms that had fallen. But he tried to be brave. So when Thorin Oakenshield called for a company, he answered, despite his eldest brother’s warnings. 

On some days, Ori was not completely sure how he survived that quest. After making bonds that ran deeper than blood, Ori was sure he would somewhere perish on the adventure. Yet he sustained, only to follow Balin as he led an army to reclaim Moria.

As he sat beside the tomb of Balin, son of Fundin, a spear in one hand and his book in the other, Ori wondered- if he had been braver, could he have made a difference?

* * *

  
**BIFUR**

With an axe in his head and oldest of Ur cousins, Bifur was almost something of a hero in the local area. A war hero, the eldest son of the family. The dwarrows looked at him with respect, the men? Not so much.

But nobody saw the scars hidden away, the loss that followed him everywhere. With every passing year, it only grew, and Bifur continued only because of his baby cousins.

When Thorin Oakenshield asked for dwarrows for a quest, in a very very long time, Bifur felt some sort of hope. He had no real interest in fighting, but he would give everything to have a better life for his family.

What he did not expect was to find an extended family of dwarrows, and a Hobbit that he would grow to care for. He did not expect more pain.

He did not expect what actually came. 

* * *

**BOFUR**

Bofur had some very simple rules in life- no matter what happens, keep smiling and the day will pass. He did whatever he could, never passed up an opportunity for an adventure and lived life to the fullest.   
Yet once he became a Lord of Erebor, his smile dimmed, his excitement dulled, and despite the occasional Company meetings and their journey to meet their beloved Hobbit every once in a while, Bofue never truly was able to push away the nightmares that haunted him.

He was one dwarf, in the sea of many many dwarves. He could not have changed it anything, truly. That did not stop him from looking into a distance, wondering if he could have changed something. If he could have saved his friends from death. If he could have changed the course of history by a small decision.

As death came to him, Bofur continued to wonder. 

* * *

**BOMBUR**

Truth was, Bombur had no real connection to the Quest of Erebor. He had no interest in the wealth or the lordship. The King had called for a cook, and Bombur had answered. If that fed his family for some more time, well, who was he to judge or ask?

But then he learned a lot on the journey- joy, friendship, loyalty, fear, anger and love. He fought, he ran, he rested and he lived. When Erebor was reclaimed, Bombur rejoiced.

When his King fell, Bombur cried.

No matter how he tried, he could never go back to the dwarf he was in Ered Luin. He saw his brother’s smiles falter, and his cousin’s hurt get deeper. He saw the Company lose a bit of themselves in grief, and rise up again because there was a life to live.

When the news came of Balin, Ori and Oin’s death, Bombur was, in a cowardly part of his heart, glad that he was too huge to accompany those dwarves. 

He was a simple dwarf, and he had seen too much death in his life already.

* * *

**OIN**

He knew that he was a person of ridicule due to his hearing, and Oin enjoyed hearing the jokes that some made about him. Him and Bifur, they stood together, laughing on many things that were not limited to their own shortcomings. 

But Oin was not a foolish dwarrow who knew nothing. He was a healer and a warrior, and everything be damned if he did not fight for his land, his kingdom. Those were the thoughts going on in his mind when he went to Erebor, and then to Moria.

And those were the thoughts in his mind when he fought the monster outside the gates of Moria. Oin will be damnded, but he would not allow his homeland to be infested by these horrid dark creatures.

* * *

**GLOIN**

Gloin was a proud dwarf. He was proud of his heritage. He was proud of his craft. He was proud of his family.

He was proud when his cousin decided to reclaim Erebor. He was proud to accompany him on the journey.

He was proud of his brother when he joined the quest to reclaim Moria.

He was proud of his son when he joined the Fellowship to help destroy the ring.

What he wasn’t proud of, however, was losing. Losing his cousin and brother to death, and his son to an elf.

As age caught up to him, the wide shoulder began to droop down, and Gloin wondered if all that pride was worth all that happened.

Regret was perhaps too strong a word. But he still felt the loss.

And perhaps, just perhaps, when his end was to come, Gloin wondered what if he had been different. Not so proud, but humble. Not so hot-headed, but just a little more careful.   
Would he be able to make a change?  



	2. The One where Bilbo had too many surprises in a Single day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea what I am doing but I am still going to do it because damn I love the idea. 
> 
> NEXT CHAPTER: DWARVES!

**BILBO**

When a person opens their eyes, they wish to see something beautiful. A duvet thrown over their body by their beloved, the early morning sun rays, perhaps the morning sky and the cool breeze lulling you out of sleep.

Nobody wants to see Gandalf the Grey’s huge face right in front of them.

Gandalf means adventure, and adventures mean bad business.

So no, Bilbo was not at all ashamed that he had screamed right in the face of an Istari and hit the older Wizard.

“Gandalf! I swear to Yavannah! What were you thinking?”

At that moment, Bilbo realized a few fundamental truths at the exact same time.

1) His voice was much younger.

2) His hand didn’t hurt anymore

3) Gandalf was...Grey. Again.

4) Bilbo was sitting outside Bag End.

“Well,” huffed the Grey Wizard, “At least you remember me, Bilbo Baggins.”

“It is hard to forget only the biggest bane my life has ever presented me,” said Bilbo, pulling up his pipe. Hmm, pipe, a wizard on his gate and a young body.

Very odd. Very odd indeed.

“Hasn’t your tongue got sharper,” said Gandalf, frowning at the Hobbit.

Bilbo shook his head, looking up. He was old, but he was young. Gandalf was white, but then suddenly he was grey again.

“Why are you here?” Bilbo finally asked.

Gandalf’s eyes twinkled, “I am looking for someone to share in an adventure.”

Deja Vu, Elrond had called it. A feeling that something had already happened before and was happening yet again. It might have been over sixty years, but Bilbo remembered the day very clearly.

“An adventure?” Bilbo’s eye twitched, “What kind of an adventure?”

Gandalf’s grinned widely, “An adventure across lands where a Hobbit has never gone before. Over mountains and under trees. An adventure to help someone reclaim their lost home.”

Bilbo frowned, “Hmm. Very odd.”

Gandalf raised an eyebrow. “Is it?”

Bilbo merely put his pipe in his mouth and took a large drag of Old Toby. Ah, the brilliant pipeweed. It had always settled his nerves.

“What if I say yes?” Bilbo wondered aloud.

Gandalf heard it, for he stood straight, “If you said yes, there would be a meeting for the members to sit and discuss the technicalities. They would need food, a place to rest. And then, you would have to leave the Shire.”

Bag-End stood tall; well, as tall as a Hobbit-hole could. It would always have someone to live in. If it wouldn’t be Bilbo, it could be Drogo. It not him, then perhaps the Gamgees.

Chewing on his pipe, Bilbo knew what this was. A second chance. If it was a dream, then he would wake up and be sad for a few days, before getting back up and going around in the Undying Lands. If it was not, Bilbo could possibly change the whole course of History.

He could defeat Sauron.

Now, now. He was getting far too ahead of himself. Bilbo liked simpler things in life, like food, and ale, and pipe, and a certain Dwarf-King.

Very simple things.

“Well?”

Bilbo slowly turned to Gandalf, looking at him curiously. “Dinner is at six. I do not like tardiness.”

With that, Bilbo stood up and walked inside his Hobbit-Hole. Once the green door was shut behind him, and Gandalf had etched a mark, Bilbo finally lost all his wits.

“WHAT DID I JUST DO?” he shouted to the empty hole, “DID I just agree to go on a forsaken adventure _again?_ Oh sweet Yavannah, what is wrong with me? Is this a dream? Oh, oh, nope. This is too real. This is happening. Is this the Undying lands? If this is the Undying lands why am I reliving the adventure? Oh, Mahal. Mahal? What is wrong with me? Am I already turning into a dwarf!”

Shaking his head, bilbo straightened his waistcoat and walked inside his bedroom.

“If I must have the company of Dwarves again, I should be prepared. Food. Things for the journey. Some money. Weapons? A good knife perhaps. Hmm.”

With that in mind, Bilbo walked out of his room. He picked up the basket, picked up a few coins, hurriedly wrote letters to the Thain, the Gamgee's, his cousin Drogo and the Sheriffs.

_Dear (whoever this is for)_

_I am going on an adventure. DO not fret, I will come back alive. Take care of my home._ (This was specifically for the Gamgees)  _Under no circumstance should my house go the Sackville-Bagginses._ (To the Sheriffs and the Thain)  _If I do not come back within two years, I will send a letter about what to do. Handle my things till then._

_Yours truly,_

_Bilbo Baggins_

It was too short, with no proper greetings whatsoever, but Bilbo really could not care less. He had a plan, and if things went according to the plan, which they should, he would stay in Dale. Make a nice Hobbit-hole there, grow and sell his tomatoes. Ah, what a wonderful life it would be.

Pulling himself out of the daydreaming, Bilbo walked out of his house and made his way to the market.

The shopkeeps looked at him funny as he bought enough food items to either last a week or to throw a large party. They were more concerned when Bilbo bought around five different kinds of knives. They were even more concerned when he ordered tinned food.

In short, the whole fo Hobbiton was concerned by the time Bilbo Baggins was done with his shopping.

Bilbo, unaware of the rucksack he had created, whistled a merry tune and walked back to his home with a few of his packages. Others were to be delivered later by some of the fauntlings. He had great plans for dinner- if all went well, it would be a good night.

As soon as he reached his gate though, Bilbo stopped short. For in his garden, bending over the flowers, stood a beautiful lady. Not a Hobbit, not quite a woman. Clad in a green dress, a flower crown atop her head, and a serene smile on her face.

Bilbo forgot his own existence as she turned and looked at Bilbo with a smile.

“There you are,” she said in almost sort of an Elvish voice, “I was wondering where you had gone off to.”

“Sorry,” mumbled Bilbo like a child.

The lady laughed, and wasn’t that a pretty sound? “It’s all right Bilbo. You have a lot to prepare for tonight, don’t you?”

Bilbo felt his cheek go red, and he ducked his head. “How- how exactly do you know about that?”

“I know about a lot of things,” she said, walking down the steps, “The past, the present, the future. Mortals might think that time is linear, but it’s more like a ball of yarn which a cat has played with too many times and the threads are all entangled.”

Nodding, Bilbo opened his gate and walked in. He still had no idea who this lady was. Well, he had a sort of idea but it was too grand to actually accept.

“Your flowers will be alone once you leave,” the lady said, touching each petal with such care, “Giving the Gamgees the key to the house would be a good idea. Though, I would say, you don’t really water them as often as you should.”

If possible, Bilbo went redder, “Oh, oh. I am very, very sorry. I should have paid attention! Are they wilting? Did I stop their growth?”

“Not quite,” said the lady, “But the plants require care. You gave them a bare necessity.”

His head was hung in shame. Oh, how could he? How could he be so blind?

“Fret not, my child,” said the lady in a motherly tone, “It’s not an easy task, taking care. It requires a great effort, and one can only do so much without getting exhausted.”

She walked down the stairs. She almost stood in front of Bilbo, and his heart hammered in his chest. She merely smiled and put her hand on his cheek.

“Will you do something for me?”

“Anything,” he muttered.

“Bring my son back to me.”

Bilbo blinked, “Your son?”

“Smeagol,” said the lady, and Bilbo shuddered, “He was always a bit different, too greedy, too childish, too malleable. The Ring he keeps poisons his mind, and I worry he will never find peace unless he sees the beauty of this world and the other.”

Bilbo nodded, “How exactly am I supposed to bring him to you?”

The lady tilted her head and smiled sadly, “I think you know how.”

Dread settled in his stomach, but Bilbo nodded nevertheless. The lady smiled and pressed a kiss on his forehead. As she pulled back, Bilbo said, “Anything else?”

The lady smiled mischievously, “I think you have already made plans for other things, haven’t you Bilbo?”

Looking at the blush on his cheek, the lady laughed, “Just take care of my Husband’s sons.”

“Your Husband?”

“The Smith.”

“Ah,” Bilbo felt foolish. Of course, he knew that “So, get Gol-Smeagol to you, take care of the dwarves. Anything else?”

“Yes,” said the lady, “Take care of yourself. You have some thirty years to work with Smeagol. Focus on your happiness, will you?”

“Mr Baggins! Your things!”

Bilbo turned to see a number of fauntlings standing on his gate. He nodded and turned around, but the lady was gone.

“Sweet Yavannah!”


	3. The One where Mahal is done with his children

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHA! Thank you so much for your amazing responses! hope you enjoy this new chapter!

**THORIN**

The thing was, he knew what smithies and forges looked like. He knew where the fire was lit, where the water chamber, if one was made, was to be present. He knew where the anvil must be placed in the devotion of Mahal, or Aule, and in case of men, how haphazardly it was placed.

Thorin was well aware of how a forge should look like, and that is why he blinked twice at the place he was in.

It wasn’t like anything he had ever seen before. There was the open sky above him, dark blue blanket glimmering with yellow and white stars. The anvil was much larger than he had ever seen before. The fire was ethereal, unlike the yellow flames he had ever seen. There was greenery on the walls, far too bright on the darkened walls.

He would have continued to gape, had his eyes not landed on the Smith. Larger than Dwarves, yet shorter than Men and Elves. His beard was large, his hair open and falling around him like an overflowing bush. His chest was bare, and a crown of...flowers sat atop his head. But no, it wasn’t a crown of flowers as much as it was a metal crown with flowers engraved.

“You are impossibly stupid, boy.”

Thorin blanched at the tone. Not even his Adad had ever scolded him like that. He bowed his head, his cheeks flaming when he realized that he himself was bare.

As naked as a wee baby, if he must.

His cheeks continued to burn and the Smith continued to talk, not looking up from whatever it was that he was working on.

“I was against the notion of even changing the tide of time. Eru and I have always been at odds, but my wife was...insistent. Even then, the last thing I wanted to do was converse. Yet, here we are.”

Thorin finally dared to look up and felt the breath leave his lungs. The Smith’s eyes were golden, like the fire beside him. It shone, like all the gems he had ever seen yet even Arkenstone couldn’t have come close to the brightness of his gaze.

“Now listen here,” he said sternly, “I am still giving you a choice. Behind you are the Halls, and nobody would say a word if you wish to go on.”

Unable to stop himself, Thorin turned around and gasped.

The Stone Gates was as clear as glass and water. Behind the grand doors sat Thror, laughing, as he did in Thorin’s early memories. Beside him sat Freya, his grandmother, swatting her husband and laughing along. On their feet sat Thrain, much younger than Thorin remembered, grinning at his parents. Thorin’s own mother, Nala, sat a few paces away from the old couple. Her hand was buried in golden hair, much like her own.

And there sat Frerin, young and not worried. His beard was still growing, his hair still waiting to be combed, and a carefree smile on his face that reminded Thorin of Kili. He had forgotten, how alike Kili and Frerin were despite their contrasting appearances.

“They will welcome you, with open arms,” said the Smith, “They await your arrival.”

“And what awaits me on the other side?”

Thorin was surprised at how calm his voice sounded. His heart was thumping against his chest.

The Smith sighed, and the glass doors showed another scene.

Something that shook Thorin more. Something he knew was a vision, rather than a reality.

It was the grand dining halls of Erebor. The torches were lit, illuminating the whole hall. The chairs which once sat the Royal family now housed the members of the Company.

Fili and Kili sat beside each other, laughing, their mouth open and filled with food. Dis sat beside them, shaking her head in exasperation, but a fondness on her face. Dwalin was there, whispering with Balin, but exchanging small smiles with the youngest Ri brother. Dori was shouting at Nori, who had clearly hidden a spoon under his seat. The Ur cousins were laughing at the plight. Gloin sat with his family, probably praising his wife and son. Oin had thrown his ear trumpet and was busy eating.

The biggest seat was empty, but just beside it sat Bilbo Baggins, wheezing. He was clutching his sides, shaking his head and tears streaming down his face.

“Is this what is?”

“No, but what it could be, shall you be careful and wiser,” said the Smith.

Thorin’s heart clenched. When he turned around to face the Smith, he had made his choice. The great Mahal shook his head, muttering something about ‘foolish Durin sons’ before saying, “Well then, be on your way. Remember your journey. You will not be alone, remember that. You must seek those who remember.”

Nodding, Thorin raised his head. Knowing he wouldn’t be alone gave him hope. Before he could open his mouth to thank Mahal, he was gone.

Just as he disappeared, the glass doors opened and Yavannah entered. “Are you done then?”

“Yes,” the Smith answered curtly.

“Told them all?”

“Told the foolish Durin’s boy.”

Yavannah glared at him, “And what of the others?”

Mahal snorted, “I have had enough of those foolish boys. They will find their way.”

“Aule!”

* * *

**DWALIN**

Waking up after dying, Dwalin cursed Mahal. He had a hammer dropped on his bald head.

Dwalin did not curse Mahal again.

But as he walked up to the Hobbit Hole, Dwalin felt dread settle in his stomach. He knew the way to Bilbo’s house. He had visited him often, as often as he could. He couldn’t be the Royal Guard for Dain the way he had sworn his loyalty to Thorin, and thus he was left with a lot of free time. It had always been a pleasure to meet their Burglar, and over the years he had grown close to the Hobbit.

But now, Mahal save him, the Hobbit would not even know him.

Gathering his courage- for he had plenty- Dwalin raised his knuckles and knocked on the door. He had no idea how he was going to change things, but he would die rather than let any harm come to his King and Princes again.

The door opened immediately, and instead of a night robe clad Hobbit, Dwalin came face to face with a dinner-ready Hobbit.

“Good evening,” said the Hobbit with what was clearly a forced smile, “Bilbo Baggins, at your service.”

As Bilbo bowed, Dwalin frowned. “Dwalin, at your service.”

“Come on in then!” the Hobbit said with faux enthusiasm- he had spent enough tea times with the dreaded Sackville-Bagginses to know when Bilbo was acting. Dwalin followed, pulling off his boots and robes with ease.

When he turned back, Bilbo was staring at him with contemplation. He turned and went inside, muttering ‘odd, very odd’ to himself. Dwalin followed without a word, knowing exactly how he had presented himself to the Hobbit the last time.

His pondering, however, stopped when he saw the dining table. His mouth fell open at the variety present on the table.

Pies, gravy, curries, bread, cheese, tarts, chicken- everything Dwalin could think of was laid down on the table.

“I hope it is enough, Master Dwalin,” came Bilbo’s voice as he carried plates out.

“Enough?” Dwalin looked at the feast dumbfounded, “Are you trying to fatten us up?”

Bilbo snorted, “As if I could ever fatten you, Dwarves, up. You say we Hobbits eat a lot and yet your parties are-” Bilbo gave a shudder, before walking back inside the kitchen.

Dwalin, however, frowned. Bilbo was much at ease at meeting Dwalin. Usually, people grabbed their buttocks and either ran away or were left trembling under Dwalin’s gaze. Bilbo...was being far too friendly.

“Master Baggins?”

“Yes?”

“You don’t happen to know about the Arkenstone-”

The word had barely left his mouth before the pots and whatever else Bilbo must have been carrying fell down. Dwalin immediately rushed to the kitchen, only to see Bilbo sitting, surrounded by plates, spoons and a pot on his head.

“ _Don’t you dare say that horrid thing’s name in my house!”_ hissed Bilbo. He then blinked, looking at Dwalin.

“Dwalin, is that you?”

Unable to help himself, Dwalin let out a loud laugh and pulled Bilbo in a bone-crushing hug.

Literally bone-crushing, considering how he was squirming and protesting.

But Dwalin did not care, as he shook the Hobbit as a rag doll.

When they finally pulled apart, Bilbo looked red in the face. Dwalin just clapped his back, rather forcefully, before laughing again.

“I thought you had sailed off with those tree-shaggers!” exclaimed Dwalin.

“I had! And they are called Elves, thank you very much,” said Bilbo, craning his neck, “What, what are you doing here?”

Dwalin raised his eyebrow, “We are to meet our burglar, I think.”

Bilbo swatted the older Dwarf on his arm, but it did more harm to him rather than the dwarf.

“Insufferable Dwarf,” muttered Bilbo, “You know what I mean. How are you in this time?”

Dwalin frowned, “I do not know. It could be a blessing, from the Valar.”

Bilbo huffed, “That, it definitely is. You will not believe who met with me this afternoon.”

“Lobelia Sackville-Baggins?”

Another hand landed on Dwalin’s arms. “No, Yavannah!”

Dwalin blinked, “The Green lady? Lord Aule’s wife? Your Creator?”

Bilbo nodded, “And she told me that time is being rewritten. And you are here. Oh, Dwalin, we have to plan. We cannot let the Durins fall.”

Dwalin immediately sobered up. He laid a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder and pushed his forehead to Bilbo’s. They stood silent, as Bilbo grasped tightly on Dwalin’s arms.

“We won’t, Bilbo. I promise we won’t.”


	4. The One where Dwarves are being...Dwarves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am supposed to be updating When the Sun Rises but I do not have the patience to write the wedding and Balin has been poking me in the head to write this.
> 
> Balin: All I am saying, lassie, is that if you have taken up a project you might as well finish it.
> 
> See this is why Balin is the smart one. Doesn't make his smartness any better.

**BALIN**

When Balin woke up to find himself in the middle of the road, looking up at the open sky, he knew something was afoot. For he had died, and he was sure that Mahal’s halls were to be made of stone, not open fields and blue skies.

It was when he spotted a couple of Hobbits making their merry way towards Bree that the reality dawned on him. He hurried off to the nearest stream and indeed- his beard was fuller, his face had fewer wrinkles and the jewels he wore after Erebor was reclaimed were missing.

Balin was a smart dwarf. He knew immediately that he had travelled back in time, before the start of their journey. Immediately searching for a hidden cave- which was much harder to find in the forest surrounding the Shire, Balin prayed to Mahal to guide him.

Once satisfied, he picked up his things, dropped them off at the Green dragon Inn- where he stayed so very often after Erebor was reclaimed and before Moria- and as the sunset he made his way to Bag End.

He was not surprised to find another set of footprints leading up to Bag End. If his memory served him well- which it always did- his brother would have already made himself comfortable in the Hobbit Hole. He would have eaten poor Master Baggins’ dinner.

Well, that wouldn’t do at all.

Raising his fists, Balin knocked on the green door.

“Yes, I am coming!” came a loud voice, of a much familiar Hobbit Balin loved to call his friend.

The door opened, and indeed there stood Bilbo Baggins, in all his glory.

“Balin, at your service,” Balin said with a grin.

The Hobbit stared at him, “Good evening.”

Ah then. It was exactly the same as the last time. “Yes, it is,” Balin nodded, “Though it might rain later.”

Saying so, he stepped in. He knew he wasn’t late and was about to open his mouth to ask when a strong pair of hands grabbed him and pulled him inside the house.

“Dwalin!” Balin scolded as Dwalin finally let him breathe, “Brother, what are you doing?”

Dwalin just laughed, “I am happy to see ya!” he bellowed and knocked his head against his. Balin frowned before Dwalin laughed again.

Dwalin never laugehd this much.

“Master Baggins has prepared a feast!” he said excitedly, all but pushing Balin inside, “See!”

And indeed, Bilbo had prepared a feast. Now, being a regular visitor to Bag End Balin knew what the Hobbit was capable of, and he was also privy to Bilbo whining about he hadn’t fed his guests properly. Balin had always assumed that Bilbo was joking.

It was very clear that he was not.

* * *

**FILI**

“So we are back in time?”

“Aye?”

“Are you sure this isn’t afterlife?”

“Unless afterlife is fashioned after the Shire, no.”

“Do you think anybody else is back?”

“Not if they didn’t die in the battle.”

“I died too early. I should have held on.”

“I do not think that it was in your hands about when you died.”

“Well yes, but I do not even know if we won.”

“Poor you.”

“It’s all your fault.”

“How is it my fault?”

“Who asked you to die by Azog’s hands?”

“I did not plan to fall into his trap.”

“Yet you did. You scared me!”

“Kili, I am well now.”

“But you died.”

“You almost died in Lake-Town.”

“ ‘ _Almost_ ’, remember.”

Fili sighed. This was how it had been since he had woken on the road, with Kili sobbing on his chest. It took him an hour to recollect what had happened and he had died, and another hour to hear how foolishly Kili had decided to go after the orcs and get himself killed.

Since then, they had used their heads to come to the conclusion that they were in the Shire. If they were in the Shire, the obvious thing to do would be to go and find Bilbo. Now, as the evening dawned, Fili had realized that it was very similar to the first time they had met Bilbo. And so, he realized, they must have gotten back in time.

“I wonder if Bilbo remembers,” Kili thought aloud.

“Mahal, I hope not!” Fili shook his head. Their poor burglar, so naive, so small, so young- fifty might be a lot among Hobbits but he was truly a babe. “I hope that Master Boggins lived till the end of his life, safe and sound in his hole.”

Kili nodded, “Yes. Fili?”

“Yes?”

“He was quite cross when we sang that little tune. Shall we sing again?”

“Of course we shall! He knew it was a joke later, didn’t he?”

“Well, aye.”

Fili clapped his younger brother and grinned, “Worry not, brother, we shall take care of everything.

Happy with the answer, Kili nodded and the brothers walked to Bag End. It wasn’t hard to find- Fili wondered how exactly Thorin had gotten lost.

Once in front of the green door, Kili took in a deep breath and knocked. Fili knew how nervous his brother was- the first time as well as this time. So he let the boy take reign.

The door flung open, and there stood Bilbo Baggins, dressed in truly respectable clothes that Fili never saw again.

“Fili,”

“And Kili,”

“At your service,” the two finished together.

Bilbo looked at the two of them, blinked once, then again, and then said, “Nope.” and fell back on the ground.

Fili and Kili exchanged an alarming look before hurrying in.

“Mr Boggins?” Kili gently slapped the Hobbit’s face, “Mr Boggins? Is he dead?”

“Trolls couldn’t kill him and we would?” huffed Fili, pushing down his weapons, “No, no, this is a shock.”

Fili too sat down on the other side of fallen Mr Baggins and began to slap his face. Kili rubbed the poor hobbit’s hands when two pair of footsteps came from within the hole.

Fili looked up to find Balin and Dwalin staring at them, wide-eyed.

“We didn’t do anything!”

Balin frowned, “We never said that you did.”

Kili turned around, worry etched on his face, “Master Balin! Help us, would you? He just fell down.”

Dwalin huffed, “He must have been shocked. Pull him aside, I will bring the water.”

The brothers nodded and began to drag him to a corner. They continued to crowd him, worrying over the fallen man. Even Balin was frowning, and Fili was getting truly worried.

* * *

**BILBO**

A pail of water was dumped over his head. Bilbo shot up, gasping for air.

“Why would you do that?”

“Woke him up, didn’t it?”

“Master Dwalin, that was rude.”

“I would show you rude, ya little runt.”

Bilbo blinked awake as he saw Dwalin chase Kili around the house. Fili was shaking with laughter, sitting on Bilbo’s other side. His eyes met Bilbo’s and he smiled.

“Ah, Mr Boggins,” Fili said with a grin, “Kili was worried we had killed you.”

Unable to stop himself, Bilbo began to cry. Fili and Balin exchanged an alarming glance as Bilbo began to cry loudly.

“Master Baggins?” Balin put a hand on Bilbo’s shoulder, “Are you quite all right?”

“Well, you see-”

Whatever was to be said was lost as another knock echoed on the door. Bilbo immediately shook his head and slapped his own face a few times. If his memory served right, It would be the Ri brother and the Ur cousins, with Oin, Gloin and Gandalf.

He got up, still drenched in water, ignoring the worried looks that Balin and Fili sent at him and where Dwalin currently had Kili in a headlock.

Bilbo opened the door and stepped back, letting the avalanche of Dwarves fall inside his home.

“GET OFF ME!”

Eyes widened, and jaws parted, Bilbo watched at the dwarf buried under the weight of all other dwarves.

There lay Thorin Oakenshield, grunting and groaning like a fauntling, trying to free himself from all the other dwarrows.


	5. The One where Everybody has a plan but nobody knows

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your comments! they are lovely and making me very happy in these dark times. Hope you guys like this new chapter.

**THORIN**

Thorin knew what to expect after he woke up the morning after meeting Mahal. He knew that he could actually not be late and thus eat something better than setw and soup, and so early he went.

He did not expect to find half of his Company, all so very overjoyed at seeing him that Thorin had to wonder if they all remembered or were they all always so excitable.

Thorin greeted them all with a neutral expression, nodded to Gandalf and straightened his furs. He wanted to make a good impression on Bilbo Baggins, the lovely burglar. teh last time he had managed to absolutely discredit his integrity and laugh at his expense. He thought Bilbo to be weak; never again would he make another such mistake.

But it seemed that Mahal was having a joke on his expense. His Company all pushed him forward to teh door. they meant no ill will, he knew that. But they were an excitable bunch and they wante dto respect him.

It was not at all respectable when they fell on him as soon as the door opened, crushing his life out of him.

And Bilbo was wet, standing there, staring at him.

He was either going to die of embarassment or lack of air.

The dwarves all pushed back, getting on their feet as Thorin wheezed to get some air inside his lungs.

"Ah, Bilbo," gandalf gave teh Hobbit a quick look, "You are wet."

"And you're late!" snarked back Bilbo, his voice scratchy.

Gandalf hummed, "That I am. Bilbo, this is the leader of our company, Thorin Oakenshield. This is our host, Bilbo Baggins."

The two stared at each other, one wet, the other out of breath. This was the most awkward introduction in Thorin's life.

Dwalin was laughing at his expense and tears escaped from his eyes. Thorin would deal with that traitor later. 

But then he spotted Kili and Fili, and Thorin’s heart lurched. Before he could do or say anything Kili was taking his coat, Balin was head butting him and he was being rushed inside the kitchen to see what a massive feast Master Baggins had prepared for them now that he knew they were coming.

Everyone silently stared at the food as Bilbo went inside to change. When he came back and saw the Dwarves still looking at the food in surprise he chided them and immediately asked everyone to start eating.

What followed was a magnificent feast.

Having had more to eat than before, Thorin felt full and content as everyone laughed and made cheer. He pulled Balin aside as the Ur cousins laughed and played.

If there was anyone Thorin could trust with his secret, it was Balin. Dwalin too, but he often worked with an axe rather than his head.

“Yes, Thorin?”

Thorin took a deep breath, “Does the battle at Ravenhill any bells for you?”

It was as if someone had flicked a switch. Balin gasped and pulled Thorin into a bone-crushing hug, which was a feat considering his height and age.

“Oh, Thorin!” Balin cried softly, “We thought you gone! We mourned you and, and here you stand! Oh, Thorin!”

Thorin somehow freed himself from Balin's tight embrace, smiling even though he felt like he was dying inside. He was going to die of lack of air very soon, if this continued.

“Peace, friend,” Thorin said with a smile, “I am here now. You lived past the battle?”

“Well past,” said Balin, wiping his eyes, “Well past, my boy. Dain was a just king.”

So his fears were true. Kili too had fallen in battle.

“We were all rich, and healthy and Erebor flourished,” nodded Balin, “The Mountain prospered.”

“And you? Did death come to you peacefully?”

Balin sighed, “Well, there was a little matter there.”

Thorin frowned. he knew that tone. Balin would rarely accept his mistakes, and when he did, he would speak like a child.

Crossing his arms, thorin glared at Balin. “Explain.”

“Well," balin gave him a soft smile, "I might have lead a march to Moria-”

“WHAT?”

“-and reclaimed it-”

“WHAT!”

“-and then died while defending it against the evil. It wasn’t particularly bad.”

Thorin blinked. “We have a lot to catch up on.”

* * *

**BOFUR**

Bofur was no stranger to Bilbo’s skills in the kitchen. Yet the Hobbit had truly outdone himself for this occasion. He had eaten everything, and his stomach was full, yet his mouth begged for more. At this rate Bofur would never leave Bilbo's house.

Whisteling to himself, Bofur made his way to the basin. As Bofur cleaned his hands, Nori appeared behind him.

Trying to ease himself, Bofur flashed a grin to the thief through the mirror.

See, he knew Nori. Very well. Bofur and Nori, after the battle, had become very good friends. Neither had known who else to turn to for their own pains and worries. Bofur spent ages learning Nori’s every secret and Nori himself learnt of Bofur’s challenges. They spent much time together, the Lord and the Spymaster. They had gotten extremely close.

Close enough to warrant rumours that shook the entire mountain.

Nori and Bofur had shared some laughs at the expese of the rumours and placed bets. They talks of teh gossip, and their own place.

And if such talks were indeed made on a particularly soft bed, while both dwarves lay naked- well then, it was nobody’s business but their own.

But now, at the beginning of the journey, Bofur and Nori knew each other no better than two soldiers in two different battalions.

“Hello, Master Nori,” Bofur said with a grin, “How may I be of your assistance?”

“Depends on what you are offering?” Nori wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. Mahal, Bofur was not immune to the charm of the Ri brothers.

“We are to be on-road tomorrow,” Bofur said gently, “So nothing extravagant, I am afraid.”

Nori pouted, and normally Bofur would not wait a moment before pressing a kiss, but he had to hold himself back. They were young again, not old enough that their sappiness could be overlooked.

“Pity,” said Nori, cleaning his fingernails with a knife- where he got the knife from, Bofur had no idea-, “I had some extravagant plans.”

Bofur smiled gently, and shook his head, “Those must wait, I am afraid.”

Nori rolled his eyes, “Aye, such is the plight of an ex-thief.”

Bofur froze. He could hear Nori whisteling behind him, but his own mind was going through a series of experiences. Slowly turning around, he fixed a stare at teh theief, who was not looking at him, yet clearly judging his reaction.

Nori only started calling himself ex-thief after he had retired from the service of Lord Dain, not before that.

“Ex-thief?” Bofur whispered.

He finally looked up, his eyes wide in relief “You do know what I am talking about?”

“If it has something to do with being in service of the Royalty of Erebor, aye.”

Nori then grinned, shaking his head, “Mahal, I was thinking I was alone.”

“So was I!” screamed-whispered Bofur, “Well, then, you remember the journey?”

“Clear as a crystal,” said Nori, “Worry not, _khudzel_ , we have a lot of time. And plans.”

And if Bofur blushed at the term of endearment, it was nobody’s business but his and Nori’s.

* * *

**ORI  
**

He felt a tad bit hesitant approaching the older dwarf. For one, Dori was being absolutely unbearable, but it had been so long that that Ori did not want to complain. Second, Lord- well, Master Oin struck close to his brother most of the time. So Ori was not sure how to excuse himself from his own brother’s pampering and get Master Oin away from his brother.

The opportunity presented itself as everyone was done with their dinner. Thorin had already taken Lord- Master Balin away for a chat, (calling everyone Master instead of Lord or even their name was going to be very hard) and Dori was talking to Master Gloin in a distance. Oin had walked away to wash his hands, and Ori carefully tiptoed after him to the washbasin.

He stood behind him patiently as Oin whistled a merry tune. Once done, he looked up and smiled at Ori.

“Just done, laddie,” he said with a grin, “You can take over.”

“Thank you very much,” Ori said, and Mahal, was his voice truly that soft once? years of shouting after young dwarves to get work done and to command battles had made him louder, “Though I was, well, I really was hoping to speak to you.”

Oin frowned, pulling his ear trumpet close, “Weak? No, no, I am sure you will do well on the quest. You are not weak.”

Oh, Mahal curse Oin’s deafness. “No, no! Speak to you, talk to you!” Ori said loudly.

“Ah,” Oin nodded, “Sure, we can speak. Let’s get out.”

Ori nodded, following the older Dwarf outside the house. It was a pretty place, the Shire, and Ori was itching to go on a walk.

“All right laddie,” Oin sat down on the bench and lit his pipe, “What do you wanna talk about?”

Playing with his sweater, Ori said, “Well, you see...”

“Huh?” Oin put up his ear trumpet, “Speak loudly.”

“Moria!” Ori muttered out in a hurry. Oin’s eyes widened ever so slightly, before softening and a loud laugh boomed off.

He clapped Ori and sent the younger Dwarf almost tumbling down before catching him and getting him back on the bench.

“Brilliant, Mahal!” he said, “He got the smartest dwarves together! A healer and a scholar, well done. I can take care of the saving and you can take care of the chronology, aye?”

Having spent ages with the older Dwarf, Ori knew exactly what the dwarf was talking about, “Yes, of course! I remember the journey well enough.”

“Aye,” Oin nodded, “I am going to stock up every herb possible. Bilbo should have it all. But Ori, do not tell it to anyone. The last thing we need is our brothers to be following us.”

To that, Ori agreed completely.

* * *

**DORI**

“All right then, Master Gloin, how do we proceed with this?”

The red-haired dwarf crossed his arms and thought deeply. “It’s a tough position for both of us. All of them already think of me as a proud and miser-”

“Which you are,” Dori pointed out.

Gloin glared at him but did not contradict him, “And they think of you as overbearing and overprotective-”

“Which I am,” muttered Dori.

“And thus anything we say will be thought as rather selfish and just us being worrid,” Gloin nodded to himself, content with his reasoning, “Hmm, Thorin would not take our advice very well.”

Dori nodded too. Truth be told, he wasn’t a very important part of the Company before and so nobody had a reason to listen to his counsel. Nori, however...

“I can let some things slip to Nori,” Dori said in conspiracy, “He is a pain, no doubt, but he would take danger into consideration.”

Gloin nodded, “And I can tell things to Oin. He will no doubt pass it on to Balin. Terrible gossips, both of them. And even if that doesn’t work, I can always try Dwalin.”

Dori muttered under his breath, “As long as he stays away from my baby brother.”

Gloin tutted, “Lo-Master Dori if you had allowed Dwalin and Ori to court, you do realize that they would have not separated and Ori would not have gone to Moria?”

Dori opened his mouth, closed it, opened it again, and then let out a large sigh. “But he is so...and Ori is so...”

As he groaned, Gloin just continued to pat Dori on his back. This was indeed going to be very difficult.

* * *

**BIFUR  
**

“Bloody axe.”

Bombur agreed.

“I was so happy when it was gone.”

Bombur nodded.

“Now I am stuck with it again.”

Bombur grunted.

“Are you even listening to me?”

Bombur hummed.

Bifur hit his cousin over the head, causing Bombur to drop his ham. Bombur turned to Bifur with a pouting expression, but Bifur just glared at him.

“I am in pain cause of this axe in my head and you are eating?” he demanded in Khudzul.

“I haven’t been able to eat _and_ move in years, cousin!” Bombur whispered back gleefully in khudzul. “Allow me to feed myself before it all goes to down.”

Bifur grumbled but allowed Bombur to feed himself. They were going to start the journey soon, and Bifur had no idea what he and Bombur were supposed to do. They had woken up together, with Bofur snoring away just a few feet away. Bifur, in unimaginable pain and bombur ready to move again. They had held each other and cried- one out of sadness and the other out of happiness. They took teh surrounding into consideration and came to teh conclusion that something was amiss. 

That was when they met the Ri brother, all of them and gloin and Oin and Gandalf.

They might not be geniuses, but they were not stupid either. They had been sent back in time, and they neede dto get working for that. But teh question was how? How to save everyone?

Well, Bombur could sit on the Durins to stop them from moving. 

But they still had to make the journey, and Bifur was never a strategist. Scratching his head, he wondered what he could do.


	6. The One where there are misunderstandings (and Thorin is jealous)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh, late am I?
> 
> I have a midterm History essay due tomorrow about a marginalized community in ancient times to be understood by a text written by an elite and...I am dead. I have no idea what to do. I have read the text and it has given me enough material to show how women were treated or at least expected to be treate dbut writing? Does not come?   
>  Enough of my rants, hope you enjoy this chapter!

**DWALIN/BILBO**

When the feast finally, _finally_ got over, Bilbo was in a much better mood. Everybody looked full and satisfied, and they had even taken out their pipes. Bag End was filled with smoke weed, but Bilbo did not particularly mind.

He would take smelly weed over dead dwarves any day.

What struck him odd, however, was the pairs that everyone made. Thorin disappeared with Balin soon after, which wasn’t very surprising in itself but Bilbo honestly expected him to pull Dwalin away as well.

When Bilbo was moving certain items around, he spotted Bofur and Nori hidden from the general view and whispering among themselves. Bilbo allowed himself to smile- he knew of his friends’ escapades. After all, Bofur was the first one to whom Bilbo had admitted his feelings for Thorin to.

The next duo, however, baffled Bilbo. Ori and Oin had walked out of the Smial and were having a lively discussion on the bench. As far as Bilbo knew, Ori and Oin had no immediate love for each other.

Bifur and Bombur weren’t that surprising, considering they were cousins and that Bofur was otherwise occupied. Neither were Fili and Kili, even though their faces were more sombre than Bilbo would have liked.

The duo that actually confused Bilbo was Dori and Gloin. Never, in any part of his life, did Bilbo expect _Dori_ and _Gloin_ to take to each other.

Now that Bilbo actually paid attention to the Company, there was a certain difference among them all. Unlike the last time, when everyone was already a part of the Company, this time there was a certain divide among the people.

“Dwalin?”

The dwarf looked up at the Hobbit, his hand inside Bilbo’s cookie jar. “Yes?”

Bilbo spared one glance at his replenishing cookies and said, “Is the Company behaving...oddly?”

Dwalin cocked his head, “Whatever do ya mean?”

“Well, everyone has scurried away in pairs,” Bilbo explained, “And while most are predictable, there are few which are making me concerned. Especially the Ri brothers.”

“They’ll hate and love each other’s guts,” Dwalin said, a cookie pressed between his teeth and therefore his words muffled, “Don’t ya fret.”

Bilbo huffed, “I think it’s more than that. Do you think...”

he never quite finished his sentence, his eyes far away, a forlorn expression on his face. Dwalin took his time to eat that cookie, then another, and one more before finally saying, “Do I think what?”

“That they are back?” Bilbo muttered distractedly.

Dwalin frowned. He could understand what Bilbo was saying, but couldn’t truly take it all in. “Who? The Ri brothers?”

Bilbo looked at him as if _he_ was a stupid child, “No, all of them.”

Unable to hide the gruff, Dwalin put down the jar and crossed his arms. “Don’t be absurd. Whyever would the whole Company be back?”

“Well, whyever not?” Bilbo crossed his arms and raised his chin, staring down Dwalin, “This is unexpected as well!”

Now, it was not as if Dwalin wanted otherwise. Nothing would warm his heart to have his brothers in arm (and his One) know of the trials they had gone to. He would destroy Balin completely, and then proceed to wed Ori as soon as possible.

But why would the whole Company be back? He and Bilbo, they had reasons. They were the oldest members of their respective races and had seen the dawn of a new age.

“You have got your mind in knots, Bilbo,” Dwalin shook his head, “No one’s back.”

“I bet they are,” Bilbo said indignantly.

Dwalin raised one bushy eyebrow, “You bet?”

Bilbo had clearly caught on to the double meaning, for he smirked, “Yes.”

“What do ya bet then, halfling?”

“Well...well,” Bilbo looked around, wondering, “If everyone is not back, then you can have one-tenth of my share of the gold.”

“I have no love lost for that treasure. Give me something interesting, Baggins.”

“Ugh...fine,” Bilbo groaned, “Well, if you are right, and it’s just the two of us, then once this quest ends I will march up to Thorin and declare my undying love for him.”

Now that, that was something Dwalin would pay to see.

“What about you?” asked Bilbo.

“What about me?” Dwalin bit back.

“What if I am right and everyone is back?”

Dwalin scratched his head. Whatever could he bet that would make sure his integrity remained intact and still amused the Hobbit?

“Well...I mean...” he couldn’t think of anything. And if Bilbo came up with it, he would be a dead dwarf.

“I know!” dread-filled Dwalin’s stomach, “You declare your intentions to Ori.”

“Blah!” Dwalin threw his arms in the air. The very idea was absurd.

“Nah, Nah!” Bilbo shook his finger as if talking to a child, “If I am proven right, you will declare your love to Ori. And court him. Properly.”

“Dori will have my head,” muttered Dwalin.

“You are scared of Dori?”

“He packs a mean punch.” Dwalin pouted.

“Mean punch my foot!” Bilbo stomped his foot, “Say you will do it or I take back my words!”

“Insufferable Hobbit!” grunted Dwalin, a frown etched on his face, “Fine, if yer right I will go and tell Ori how I feel. And you get one-tenth of my treasure.”

“Hmm, accepted Master Dwalin.”

“Prepare to lose, Baggins.”

* * *

**THORIN/BALIN**

Now, Thorin was not a jealous dwarf. He was proud, yes, but not jealous. Yet when he saw Dwalin and Bilbo, his cousin, best friend and his One share secretive words and exchange a rather animatic conversation, something vile settled in his stomach.

Balin was of no help.

“They became good friends afterwards,” he said, chewing on his pipe, “In fact, Dwalin visited Shire far more often than I did. Once every two years at the very least. Before I went off to Moria, Dwalin was also talking to courting.”

“He was planning on courting Bilbo?”

Balin shrugged, “I am not sure, though he was planning on making pens and quills for courting gift, Not that that idiot would actually tell me, he thought he was being inconspicuous.”

Thorin grunted, crossing his arms, “Bilbo and Dwalin. I would never have thought.”

Balin looked up from his pipe and frowned, “Now, it’s just a hunch. They could be very good friends.”

“Sure Balin,” Thorin grunted, “When was the last time you saw Dwalin this excited?”

The older dwarf opened his mouth, then closed it, opened it again and closed it firmly. True, his brother was behaving overly cheery.

Well, blast that Dwarf, If only Dwalin could communicate to him like a normal dwarf, perhaps he could have given Thorin some comfort. Ones were a sacred matter.

“I don’t think he is going to court Bilbo right about now,” said Balin, “I mean, this is not the Hobbit we knew. And Dwalin only got enamoured with him after the battle.”

That was clearly not the right thing to say, for Thorin’s frown got worse.

Balin could only pray that the quest went a little better than last time, considering all the things going around.

* * *

**BOMBUR/BIFUR**

Nothing exciting happened after dinner. Gandalf pulled out the key, Thorin told them no one else was coming which was not a surprise for the two cousins, some Dwarves shouted, Bilbo was signed as the burglar and they all sang about their lost home.

Bofur did not unnecessarily scare Bilbo and he did not faint. Bifur’s tight grip on Bofur’s leg made sure he was too much in pain to actually open his mouth and actually say something.

Bifur was not at all sorry.

The next morning, the Company left as soon as the sun rose over the horizon. Thorin leads them, and there was an excitement in the Company. The princes were laughing and teasing everyone, and everybody was responding to them. 

Bilbo, however, looked out of place on the pony once more. He never did like those animals much. None of the Company had yet warmed up to the Hobbit, though Bombur could see that everyone wanted to say something but changed their mind at the last moment.

Bombur felt bad. Given, this was not the Hobbit Bombur shared his recipes with but it was still the same Hobbit. Having made up his mind, Bombur directed his pony to walk beside Bilbo.

“Hello, Master Baggins.”

Bilbo turned around, surprise clear on his face, “Oh, hello. Master Bombur.”

Bombur smiled. Bilbo remembered his name, “I just wanted to say, the feast was magnificent last night.”

The Hobbit’s stance eased, “Oh thank you very much. I just used my family’s recipe's you know. We Baggins sure do know how to eat. Haha.”

Bombur nodded, “Clearly! That stew was amazing. I could taste the vegetables but they did not feel horrible at all.”

It was clear that Bilbo was trying to stop his laughter, “Well, yes. I just thought, not everybody likes vegetables, it is better to make them good enough.”

“Dwarves don’t eat a lot of greens. Not a lot of it grown on the mountainside.”

Conversation flowed, and Bombur never felt the loss of his old friend. There was not much difference in this Bilbo and the Bilbo he knew. Perhaps, if he could build a good relationship with the Hobbit he could change certain things.

The Company moved on and only stopped for lunch in an open field. Bombur immediately pulled Bilbo to help him with the stew, and somehow he procured mushrooms and everybody had a hearty meal.

After the meal, Bifur got up, a plan in his mind. He approached Thorin, who was sitting with Dwalin and talking about orc packs. When he saw Bifur come close, Thorin stopped and bowed to him.

“Bifur,” Thorin said in Khudzul, “Is something wrong?”

There was a reason Bifur respected the Dwarf king. Even though he understood Westron, Thorin always talked to him in a language he was comfortable with.

“Your Majesty,” Bifur said in Khudzul, nodding to Dwalin, “I had a suggestion.”

“I am listening.”

“The roads we are to take are not safe. I have heard enough tales from merchants of Orcs. We need to be on our toes, and fight.”

Thorin nodded, “Indeed. What do you suggest?”

“I say we all practice our skills every lunch.”

At Thorin’s confused expression, Bifur explained, “It has been years since I have taken up arms, and even though my cousins can fight they have never seen battle. The Ri brothers are domestic dwarves, not warriors. And I doubt Master Gloin or Master Oin have done a lot of fighting recently. If we were to be attacked, most of us would be taken by surprise.”

“He is right,” grunted Dwalin, in Khudzul as well, “The wizard is unpredictable. We can’t rely on him. Then there’s the halfling.”

For some reason, Thorin looked very cross at the mention of Bilbo, “What about the Halfling?”

“He has never taken up a weapon. He would die before you can ever say Warg.”

Bifur knew that it was bullshit, and Bilbo could easily defend himself. But he couldn’t exactly tell the King or his Guard of a battle that had not even happened.

“He told you that last night, did he?” growled Thorin.

Dwalin, undeterred, nodded, “Bifur makes a good point. Let us all have practice sessions every lunch.”

Thorin shook his head, “Every lunch would slow us down. Every alternate day, and whenever we can find open areas, aye?”

“Aye.”

Bifur allowed himself to smile. If everyone was up to date with their skills, they might be able to handle small attacks well enough.

And small things could make big changes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hehe. Dwalin and Bilbo...hehe


	7. The One where Thorin is stupid, the Company is losing their mind, and Dori is a mama hen

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bofur: Aye, hullo! We might have kidnapped this lass here.  
> Nori: It's not kidnapping. We just gently swayed her decision. While keeping her under our watchful gaze  
> Bofur: Aye that. See, we have been here for so long while she has gone off to start other stories.  
> Nori: A crime that the bald guard should be looking into, if you ask me  
> Bofur: and as a result she didn't give us any dialogues  
> Nori: I think we need to up our game  
> Bofur: Now, now, we can't harm her...else she wouldn't write a thing!  
> Nori: *puts his weapons back in his various pockets*  
> Bofur: We will come back, soon. Meanwhile, enjoy this madness  
> Nori *muttering* everyone in this Company is mad, I tell ya

**DWALIN/BILBO**

“You did this purposefully.”

“Nay. Bifur did it.”

Bilbo huffed. His arms ached. His hips ached. His spine hurt. The sun felt like it was sending daggers to his skin. Even bearing the One Ring did not have such effect on his body.

Bloody practice.

Thorin was perhaps the only one who looked normal. Who looked majestic. Even in his tunic and half sweaty hair...

How was it even possible?

Fili and Kili groaned and fell down beside Bilbo. They were coughing and spluttering. Dwalin tutted, and gave one kick to each of the brother.

Kili groaned, “Have mercy, oh great teacher.”

“We are just poor souls,” hissed Fili, clutching his side.

“Poor souls,” huffed Dwalin, “These are the princes of Erebor. You would have to lead a battle one day, you realize that?”

Fili popped up on his arms, pushing away his braids and few loose hair, “One day, yes. Until that day, can we just not?”

Crossing his arms, Dwalin glared at the boy, “And what would happen when wargs attack, yer Majesty? Would they wait for your arse to get better?”

Fili groaned, before dropping down again.

“I am dead. Wake me up at my funeral.”

Despite knowing that Fili was joking, both Dwalin and Bilbo shared a terrified look. A little practice never killed anyone, but the things they had seen...

Thorin’s presence was the only thing that made them shut their mouth. He had been behaving oddly. Dwalin could easily sense it in the way he talked to him. It was worrying, considering if there was something he was hiding from Dwalin. The good thing was he talked to Balin, so there ought to be some sense in whatever he was thinking.

“We get back on road in fifteen minutes.”

Every single dwarf (and one hobbit) groaned collectively as Thorin declared his intentions. Gandalf, the only one exempt from this torturous session, was sitting on a boulder and watching the spectacle. He laughed around his pipe, before quickly extinguishing it and getting back to readying the ponies.

Bilbo was somewhat glad for the wizard at the moment.

“Master Baggins,” came Thorin’s voice, and Bilbo jumped, looking around in confusion, “A moment please.”

He shared a terrified look with Dwalin. The only conversation Bilbo had had with the Dwarf was a very poor introduction they had shared.

Dwalin merely grinned, making Bilbo groan. He got up, making sure he was somewhat respectable, despite his disheveled and smelly presence. He walked on to where Thorin stood, his hands by his side, his face scrunched up in a frown.

It somewhat reminded him of the Mithril shirt exchange.

Shaking the image out of his head, Bilbo walked on to where Thorin stood and put on a what he hoped was a somewhat a pleasant smile.

“Yes, Master Thorin?”

The dwarf grunted, crossing his arms as he looked down on Bilbo. Being under a scrutinizing gaze was perhaps not the best.

“I realize Hobbits do not fight,” Thorin began with a grumble, “And you are a Hobbit. The wild is not a very safe place for someone like you.”

“Excuse me?”

“There will be many dangers we would face in our travels. As it is, you do not bear an axe or a sword. I doubt how much a knife could ever help you against giant animals, especially with you skills. Your body is not made for hand-to-hand combat. I doubt you have even done anything of that sort. Your hands are soft, and your feet are big. They may prove to be a tactical bad point, with all that fuzy hair you have there.”

With every word that left Thorin’s mouth, Bilbo felt his temper rise. Letting out an angry huff, Bilbo glared at the dwarf, “Is there a bloody point to all of this?”

“Yes,” Thorin said, yet unaware of Bilbo’s temper, “I am just saying how ill-disposed you would be shall we are attacked.”

“Oh thank you!” Bilbo bit out sarcastically. Thorin frowned, finally looking at Bilbo’s red face, “I would make sure to run behind your oh so broad shoulders if anyone attacks me. Now, if you will excuse me, I would use these ‘soft hands’ to pack my things.”

Without another word, Bilbo turned and walked towards his ponies, passing Dwalin and the two princes who seemed both embarrassed and gleeful at the same time. Dwalin was not even trying to stop his laughter and Fili kept trying to shut Kili up.

Bloody Dwarf. What ever did he think Bilbo was? He had saved them from Azog, and the spiders, and in the dungeons. Did not have skills, his foot!

* * *

**THORIN/BALIN**

Thorin watched the Hobbit go with a confused frown. In front fo him, Dwalin was clutching his belly and letting out a bellowing laughter, which was a very disturbing to watch in itself. Kili was on his back, struggling between snicking and letting out snort filled laughter as Fili continued to swat him to shut up. It was not like the older Prince was any better, trying extremely hard to sustain his laughter.

When Balin walked up to him, Thorin asked with a frown, “Did I say something wrong?”

Balin raised an eyebrow, silently judging the King, “You essentially insulted Bilbo.”

“I did?” Thorin asked, confused. He looked back to where the Hobbit was stomping all around, checking after his pony and scaring the Ri brothers, “I was merely pointing out the issues we might face truthfully.”

“Why?” Balin asked desperately.

“Because I ignored him before,” Thorin’s voice dropped into a whisper as he turned to hsi oldest friend and advisor, “I wished to acquaint myself with him and be very clear.”

As Balin let out a tired sigh and massaged his temples, Thorin realized he had massively mucked up.

“It was certainly better when you did not speak with him,” Balin reminded pointedly.

* * *

**FILI/KILI**

Thorin led the ponies. Bilbo rode back, glaring so hard at Thorin’s back that his clothes might as well burn off.

Kili elbowed his brother, who looked torn between doing something mischievous and being the mature one. That was Fili’s general state of existence.

“They will get together by Lake-Town,” Kili leaned in to whisper.

Fili snorted, “If this how Uncle behaves, Oin has more chance of courting Bilbo than him.”

Kili let out loud bark of laughter, before slapping his palm over his mouth. He got some raised eyebrows, but that was about it. Being in the somewhat middle had its perks and downfalls. While they could keep track of everyone, talking about things became truly hard.

That night they decided to rest stop a hill. Both Fili and Kili recognized the place. It was where Balin had told them the story of Battle of Azanulbizar for the first time, which was a crime honestly considering they belonged to teh family and had every right to know before. It was also the place where they first heard the wargs.

Immediately, the princes went into a defensive position. If wargs were following from there, no wonder they were able to chase them around soon after Trollshaw.

Huddled away from the rest of the Company, the two brothers began to rack their brains for ideas.

“We could take our leave and hunt them down now,” Fili said with a grin, “They ought to be lesser.”

“And Uncle would just let us go?” Kili asked worriedly, before shaking his head.

The older Prince sighed, scratching his beard, “Well, no scaring Bilbo.”

“No scaring Bilbo,” agreed Kili.

“What else can we do?”

“Warn Thorin?”

“Of what? Azog? He would never believe us.”

“We could tell him.”

Fili snorted, “I would like to see you have that conversation. ‘Oh, hello Thorin. So here’s teh thing, we came back from the dead, and we know the future.’ He would first smack us over our heads and then bark orders that would have our hands aching for days.”

“It’s not like we are any better now,” Kili pouted, holding his hand. Sword was never his best weapon- it was what led to his downfall, eventually. If he had his bow, perhaps he could have killed the ugly orc.

Fili smile sympathetically. He did not understand the problem, truly, he had hundreds of knives and loved using them, “Worry not, _nadadith_. We shall do better,”

When dinner got over, Fili and Kili got ready to take watch. But they were surprised when Thorin instead asked Gloin and Dori to do so.

Well, it is said never to see a gift horse in its mouth. So the brothers shrugged and plopped down on their bed rolls. Within minutes, they were both snoring.

* * *

**GLOIN/DORI**

Dori was restless as he looked around. Gloin thumped the older dwarf and grumbled.

“Would you stop?” he muttered, “You walking is making me anxious.”

“Oh well,” Dori sat down with huff, “you cannot blame me. You do remember we heard wargs here first.”

“Aye,” Said Gloin, “But our days are different. I have been keeping track. We are moving slower.”

“That’s certainly not helping, Master Gloin.”

Gloin grumbled, but went back to his pipe. Dori sat still for a moment, before getting up and walking around the camp, checking on everyone.

The princes were fast asleep, their bedrolls crumbled under their bodies. Dori smiled, before patting the princes’ heads. Fili muttered something before turning around and clutching Kili’s legs under his arms. Kili scratched his face before swatting Fili’s stomach and turning around to fall into a deep sleep again.

Next up was Throin who looked massively uncomfortable on the boulder. Dori wanted to wake him up and offer him some more comfortable alternatives, but Thorin rarely slept. He was always vigilant. Unwillingly, Dori let him be.

Dwalin and Balin hardly slept together, but when they did they looked like babies. Dwalin slept with his hand tucked under his head, his body curled. Balin slept just beside him, his hands stretched out enough to feel his brother’s presence. It was extremely cute. If Dori did not have a personal grudge against the guard, it would have been even lovelier.

Bifur slept on his back, and so did Bombur. They were both snoring lightly, though Bifur did seem to have some nightmares. He would mutter things that would translate to ‘attack his left’ and ‘arm’s off’. It was disturbing, but Dori was no stranger to nightmares.

Oin was stirring for his next watch, but looked comfortable where he was. Gandalf sat beside him, offering Dori a nod as he passed through. Ori slept nearby, his hands clutched around his notebook, a soft smile on his face. Dori slowly caressed his head before moving on.

Nori and Bofur, now those two needed to learn some decency. They slept like a couple on their bed, arms intertwined, legs thrown over one another, mouth open in a snore, Bofur’s hat on Nori’s head. One of Bofur’s hands was In Nori’s hair and Nori was clutching on to Bofur’s mustache like a dwarfling.

It was romantic, Dori had to admit. Erebor had never been happy for them, and Nori was worse in his skirting if possible. Bofur had grown sadder, and it was only in each other’s presence that he saw the two smile.

Holding himself back, Dori moved on from the two and walked on the resident Hobbit. Bilbo was sleeping on his side. When the wargs howled, he twitched in his sleep, but showed no other sign of anything bad.

Once sure that everyone was fine, Dori walked to where Gloin sat.

“Done, mama Dori?”

“Oh shush,” Dori scolded, “If Gimli had been on this quest it is not like you would be any better.”

Gloin grumbled, but did not deem to answer that.

“Whatever. We need to think about the trolls.”

“What about the trolls?” Dori asked in a whisper.

Gloin hummed, “We can’t let the boys guard the ponies.”

“And however would we stop Thorin from making that decision?”

“We can’t,” Gloin said regretfully, “But what we can do, is over-smart those trolls ourselves.”

Dori sat back with an intrigued expression, “We can?”

“Aye,” Gloin nodded, before leaning in, “Think about it Master Dori. We are two of the smartest Dwarrows out there. If anyone can best the Trolls, it’s us.”

“that’s true...”

“And we have pointers from Bilbo’s stories. I am sure we will figure this out.”

Dori seemed to agree. So, in the dead of night, with all but the wizard asleep, Dori and Gloin began to make plans to avoid the trolls, unaware that every other member of the Company too had started their own planning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heylo. Don't shout. I have escaped. If they take me captive again, you might have chapter again.
> 
> AAAH THEY ARE BEHIND ME BYE!
> 
> EDIT: 24/01/2020
> 
> Bofur: I told ya to be gentle  
> Nori: Ummm  
> Bofur: The lass is indisposed at the moment. Will be for the upcoming few weeks  
> Nori: "Mumbling" Maybe months  
> Bofur: And it's our fault. Hopefully someone will realize that knife is not an option for everything  
> Nori: I said I am sorry, aye?  
> Bilbo: You mean we are stuck at this moment? For the inconceivable amount of time?  
> Nori: Ummmmmmm  
> Bofur: He is dead  
> Balin: Oh, save us all Mahal


End file.
